


The King's Court

by khanna_ahun



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA, Gen, king!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khanna_ahun/pseuds/khanna_ahun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every city has its ruler. Los Santos has its Court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King's Court

**Author's Note:**

> It's 11:00 pm, written on my phone, but hey I had a burst of inspiration. Enjoy and comment!

The King's Court. Like some fairytale, Los Santos was ruled by its King, the First. A drunkard with a tighter hold on the city than his bottle of beer, he was always more than happy to stir up some trouble in his town for the sake of entertainment. His enemies always underestimated the drunk, attempting to overthrow his reign. Thinking they were smart, the greedy attacked while the First was in a drunken stage. It was soon dicovered that it was wise to avoid the First when drunk. Even though the King rarely obeyed laws, he disregarded every one when in the drink's hold. When attacking the drunkard himself proved too costly, his enemies went after the First's Court.  They learned early the First's Court was not to be touched. Not just because each member of the Court could handle themselves and left a trail of dead bodies, but because the remaining members of the aggressor would soon follow. Unlike the common criminal or thief, men who attacked the Court did not get the gift of an swift bullet to the head. One in particular was not to be captured.

The King's Jester. The First was inexplicably fond of the most whimsical of the batch, the rumored technological genius. Yet he was deemed the Jester, only known for ]his constant errors and mistakes. A odd sight to behold, it was wondered why the King allowed such a fool in this Kingdom. What was a big-nosed man with a foreign accent doing playing with the big dogs? He tempted fate at every turn, jumping out of a chopper flailing, attempting to do a "front flip for style". He mocked attackers, laughed at frantic attempts to kill him, and treated the most powerful man in the city like a brother. Yet there were something that the underworld of Los Santos felt. That there had to be a reason the First accepted the Jester. They soon found their answer. Smiling at the Molotovs that burnt innocents, betting on which flare would set a biker on fire, throwing C-4 and grenades for the hell of it- the Jester was reckless. He was a fool, yes, but his attachment to life and sanity drew him to the King. The Jester had abosoutely no cares, nor fear. A missed grenade was a silly accident, and almost killing his teammates a mere trifle. His mistakes were many, but they were him. Yet his mistakes were always accounted for, even though it kept the Architect pulling her hair out.

She was never far from the First's side. Almost like a mother to the Court, she was the one the received drunk texts, the one that drove them to their hiests, and always made sure they were wearing their parachutes. Especially after one unfortunate cargo bob incident that ended with the Jester gaining three broken ribs and internal bruising. She was the First's source of calm logic, earning her title as the Architect may times over. The First was the face, the gun before your eyes, but it was the Architect whispering orders into his ear.

And of course, the king needs his loyal Knight. A rash, violent man with tendencies towards outbursts, the Knight's capability with explosives was known throughout all of Los Santos. Matching his explosive skill, he had an explosive temper. The Jester often found himself the brunt of these shouts with his characteristic stunts, but laughed it off all the same. May were surprised that the Jester had lasted so long; the Knight would have killed anyone else within a heartbeat. Though the Knight's fiery temper were whispered of throughout, only those who had suffered its wrath firsthand knew it's fury. Yet he was not a cruel Knight.

Cruelty was saved for the Vagabond. Rumors flew when the First admitted a stranger to his Court. The citizens of the land knew not of what their new enforcer would be like. Any hope for a kind soul like the Architect, the Court's only sound of reason, was dashed immediately. The Vagabond, a wanderer from land to land. A cold-hearted man with the face of a skull. He was the Angel of Death in this Court, the silent bringer of pain and torture. When he was first appointed, a servant far down the scale had acted out against the First and misjudged the recompense for his actions. The very next day, the Vagabond appeared, and the Angel of Death claimed his first victim in this new land. From there, his trail was washed in blood and pleas. His shadow extended far beyond the First's, scaring others into submission. Hidden pasts only fuel the fire of rumors, and the Vagabond laugh as he threw more bodies to the flame.

Beside the Architect, the Aristocrat was the cleanest. Rarely did he get his hands dirty, rarely was a rose not found at the scene of the crime. Long-range shooting suited him. His snide remarks over the enemies' hacked comms sent them squealing for safety, only to scramble into his scope. He was popular among the lower ranks, seeming a bit more human than the contained storm of the Knight or the haunting figure of the Vagabond. Sometimes, in the middle of a smoke-filled room, others would relax and lay their burdens upon the Aristocrat. Most of the time, he just didn't care. But the minute a word was said against the Court, the offender was found with a rose in the bullet hole in his head. 

And so the Court thrives, for its rule is not taken lightly. From the silly Jester to the death-bringer Vagabond, the First's Kingdom of Los Santos is respected and feared.

So all who dare enter please beware,

For your lives you must take great care.

Though your fears may be inside your head,

There are men who inspire the worst of dread.

So beware the First, drunk may he be,

Beware the Architect, though it is a she.

The Jester and the Knight, a wicked force,

Of fire and sword many's death was the source.

The Vagabond wanders, though he's never far,

From your death haunted dreams that inevitably scar.

The best one of all, the gentlemen here,

Be careful, for the Aristocrat has also struck fear.

So in this Court, where one man plays like a king,

Watch your back, lest for you that death bell ring.


End file.
